I Will Survive
by AVeryGleekyPotterHead
Summary: Follow the 24 tributes of Panem as they discover the essentials; how to love, how to mourn the lost, and especially, how to survive. Who will emerge victorious and who will give it all away? AU!glee set to the events of the popular novel the Hunger Games.
1. District One

_**Inspiration for this fan fiction struck while my town was under severe tornado warning. No, literally. It was terrifying. BUT, 5 uprooted trees and countless scrapes later, I finally finished the outline. I'm ecstatic to share it with you, and I hope you'll give it a chance! Here's my layout for I Will Survive: each district will have the first 1-12 chapters for their separate reaping. Keep in mind, this fan fic will not be completely accurate according to glee, and The Hunger Games, but I assure you that I will try my best. Remember- every time that you rate and comment, somewhere, a child is given shoes. (Not really, I would love for rating and comments, though!) I would appreciate your feedback! Enjoy!**_

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><p><strong><em>Chapter One: District One; Sebastian Smythe<em>**

Beads of sweat trickled down the body of Sebastian Smythe as he finished his daily training. It was a precautionary measure for children from 8 to 18 in District 1 to train, in case of the unlikely event that their name were to be drawn at the reaping, and as always, Sebastian took an extra hour than all the others to train. Again, as always, something didn't seem to sit right with the boy. His mind raced even more than usual, yet it was not unusual. Was it because today was the day of the reaping? Maybe. He furrowed his eyebrows, trying as hard as possible to dwell on the small amount of positives that he could muster. _I haven't got drawn yet. It's a slim chance of me getting drawn. _He repeated the phrase in his head, chanting it to himself subconsciously, but the constant fear that sat in the pit of his stomach remained. Being the wealthiest district of Panem, no one dared to admit their terror, which made it all the more frightening. Sebastian, slightly fatigued, held his stomach as she walked out of the designated training area. Immediately as he reached the others, his hand fell to his side, and faux cockiness shimmered in his face.

"An extra hour, Sebastian?" Star, Sebastian's trainer inquired as she handed him a bleach white towel baring District 1's seal.

"You never know," was Sebastian's response.

Star bared a understanding nod, as she retreated the towel that Sebastian used to blot the sweat from his body.

"Well, hurry up with your shower, and get ready! The reaping is soon," Star warned, and Sebastian nodded, striding to the showers, and thus, he embarked himself for yet another reaping.

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><p><strong><em>Sugar Motta<em>**

Sugar Motta double, triple, and quadruple checked her reflection on her cedar vanity, making sure that every single detail of her demeanor was statuesque for the reaping. It was, after all, an opportunity to look her best, even though she knew she was already perfect. Dressing up, partying after the reaping, that's all it meant to her. Besides, she wasn't entered nearly as many times as the others, so the thought of getting drawn hadn't really crossed her mind. Why would it? It was like, a 12 in bazillion percent chance of getting drawn. She was also far too pretty to be chosen. _Well, at least when I get my hair sorted,_ she thought, brushing it out, and smiling at herself. _Easy fix._ She skipped from her vanity to where her assortment of shoes of all shapes and colors were, and picked out her favorite ones. The elegance she braced upon her feet were usually only seen in the Capitol, making them very rare and expensive. It was a good thing that her father was connected to the Capitol, or else she was sure she'd die. She'd just die! 

Finally, after everything was as harmonious as could be, Sugar winked back at the mirror. The poised girl then debouched outside, waving at her friends to come and walk with her.

"Hey, Sug," a brunette girl with short hair said, "You look awesome!"

"I know," She said, simply, shrugging her off. "You look…" She didn't think to finish, because on her way to the square, she saw Sebastian Smythe, a boy she hadn't previously thought to converse smirked, and winked at Sugar, and she rolled her eyes, and continued to where the reaping was to be held.

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><p><strong><em>The Tributes<em>**

The square was crowded, females and males alike scattered throughout the place, Peacekeepers doing their duty. Everyone seemed as somber as District 1 would be, except for Emma Pillsbury, the announcer of who was to be drawn and attend the games. It was obvious she was a representative from the capitol, her fiery red hair matched her makeup, gloves with flamboyant crimson flowers placed on it. She grinned a toothy beam as her lips curled upright, a grin plastered on her face. Emma Pillsbury then walked up to the podium, waiting for the twelve though eighteen year old to file into their designated area, youngest and back and eldest in front, as always. Once everyone was in their place, the mayor began hurriedly reading through the past victors, as they stepped on the stage. District One was fortunate to have so many victors, at they all stepped up, waved, and sat down. The entirety of the square tensed up as Emma stepped up to the podium.

"Happy Hunger Games!" she exclaimed in her petite-yet-shrilly voice, "and may the odds _ever_ be in your favor!" Her grin got even wider as she exclaimed, "the Hunger Games are a thrilling time, don't you agree?"

The audience clapped, (as they were forced to,) and Emma bouncily read off the history of the Games, the same story told for 74 years. Finally, the time arose to draw the sacrifices, the tributes, for this year's impending games.

"Let's get started, shall we? Ladies first!" She placed her gloved hand into the bowl, and out came the white slip of paper. Every girl, and their family, held their breath, as Emma called out, "Sugar Motta!"

The crowd fell silent. Heads faced toward Sugar, and she couldn't help but blink confusedly. She was in a state of shock, an internal paralysis. Sugar's friends looked at her, saying things along the lines of "Go up!" and "C'mon, Sugar!". When she didn't budge, a Peacekeeper grabbed her arm, and Sugar whisked away, disbelief on her face. _No. No no no no no NO! This can't be right. There is NO WAY this is right! _Sugar thought to herself, making a small scene as she was dragged upon the stage. The victors shared a knowing glance with Sugar, a sympathetic glare. Sugar tried to poise herself, and Emma, trying to distract everyone, said "Well, isn't this just oodles of fun? But the fun continues! Now for our male tribute!"

This time, the males tensed up, along with their families, and the similar apprehensive looks scattered around the square. Emma walked to the crystal bowl containing the boy's names, and drew. She quickly said, "Sebastian Smythe!"

There was no gleam of emotion on Sebastian's face as he walked up. He knew that he was going to be called. That feeling in the pit of his stomach, that was fate, and it could not be ignored or avoided, try as he might.

Sugar looked at Sebastian. She recalled that Sebastian regularly took after-hour training, which was very good for her. They would ally, and later on in the games, she would break it. Her plan: Find out his strengths and weaknesses, and kill him off. She would emerge victorious.

Sebastian and Sugar, along with the entire square, remained silent as the mayor read off the Treaty of Treason. Finally, everyone was dismissed, except for those who wished to say goodbye. Sugar's friends, and admirers bolted up to her aid. There was no one for Sebastian.

"Sugar! You'll win, right?" A girl, presumably 10 years of age asked.

Sugar smiled confidently. "Of course! I'm way more skilled than anyone else, anyway!"

The child nodded in agreement, and said "Bye, Sugar!" as her mom swept her up. Sugar waved at her.

The Peacekeepers came and collected Sebastian and Sugar, and the two embarked on their journey to the capitol.

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><p><strong><em>And that's the end of Chapter One: District One! Next up, District Two, which should be posted a week from now! Thank you for reading!<em>**


	2. District Two

_**HOLA! Short A/N for this one. Just wanted to let you know that this one will be a bit more cheery, because a source (Hunger Games Wiki, can you blame a girl for trying to be accurate?) has told me that District two supports the capitol the most. Just a bit, though. I hope you enjoy who I decided to put for each district, and thank you (yes, you four people) for subbing! It means a lot! Enjoy, and tell people about it, please! Thank you muchly!  
>-AVGPH <strong>_

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><p><em>Chapter Two: District Two.<em>

_Jesse St. James._

Jesse's final reaping. One day more filled with the fear of the unknown, anticipation foreboding all other thoughts. Jesse St. James understood the Capitol's reasoning for it, in fact, he even supported it, but that didn't halt the phobia of death. Sure, he understood that everything _must _face death at one point, but why so young? He pushed the thoughts to the back of his head, something that he had become accustomed to lately. When the thought was vaporized from his subconscious, he ran a hand through his corse, curly hair. He- an eighteen year old boy, no, _man_, was as ready as he could be for the impending ceremonies. With 9 years of training under his belt, if the odds weren't in his favor… he would be ready.

Having a tradition of dressing up for the Ceremonies, he straightened the tie around his neck, making sure it was secured tightly. It was. A silent padding inside resided, and Jesse looked over to spot his sister.

"Julie," he exclaimed, smiling at the short brunette, picking her up and spinning around as Julie, a twelve year old youth squealed with rapture.

"Jesse!" the petite girl beamed as her hair flew around her face and her legs swung around from the spinning. Jesse placed her on top of the ebony dresser, courtesy of district 7. The girl grinned at Jesse, anxious of his reply to her.

"Hey, kiddo!" Jesse said, flashing his 100- watt smile.

"Hey, Jesse! You're all fancy-like!" Julie voiced, amused by how ornamental her brother appeared_. _"Does this mean that I have to be fancy, too?"

"It's customary, but you don't have to if you don't want to," Jesse chortled with a shake of his head, and a grin still placed on his face.

"I wanna be all pretty like you!"

"Not pretty," Jesse asserted, "_handsome._" He winked.

"Gotcha." There was a brief silence that hing in the air, until Julie said "I'm gonna get handsome now, Jesse.

An amused look crossed Jesse's face, as he nodded. "Okay. make sure you're ready in time for us to depart!" He waved at his sister.

About 10 minutes later, Julie St. James walked into the living area, looking up at her brother.

"How do I look?" Julie inquired, spinning around in her scarlet dress.

"Wonderful," Jesse replied, placing his strong hand into Julie's petite hand. "Ready?"

Julie nodded, and with that, they set off to the reaping.

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><p><em>Brittany S. Pierce.<em>

Brittany Susan Pierce glanced at her cat, a concerned look dwelling in the creases of her face. "C'mon, Lord Tubbington! If you keep coming in here are reading my journal, I know you'll turn it into the Capitol, and they'll find out my plans for a time machine." The blonde pouted and poked the obese tabby cat, and a dark growl/meow came from deep within the cat's throat. Brittany frowned at the feline, crossing her arms skeptically. "Fine, but if you get chosen for the Hunger Games, the Capitol's gonna take you away.

The gargantuan tabby got up and sauntered off, and Brittany looked at the retreating cat. He. Was. Hopeless. Brittany stood up from her creaky bed, scoping through her closet and finding a white tee shirt, and jeans. She quickly changed into them, and found a pair of shoes, accidentally but unknowingly putting the left shoe on the right, and right on left. She walked into the living area striding up to her mother. "Mom, can you tie my shoes?" She asked, crinkling up her nose.

Brittany did not have any mental issues, anything wrong within her mind. However, she was a child trapped in a 16 year old's body. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Brittany, honey," Mrs. Pierce said, taking off her daughter's shoes and placing them on the correct foot, "are you sure that you don't want to dress up for the reaping?"

Brittany shook her head, "I haven't gotten reaped yet, and there's, like, a really small chance if I haven't already got in, right?"

Mrs. Pierce sighed, shrugging. "I guess."

Brittany nodded, smiling as she took her mother's hand in hers. "Wait, can I bring Lord Tubbington?"

"No, hon," Mrs. Pierce chuckled. "You'll see him once you get home."

Brittany nodded again, walking out the door into the crisp air, and looking back at her home.

She'd be back.

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><p><em>The Reaping.<em>

It wasn't just the age old, tiring deal in District two. For Emma, it was a nice relief of stress. District Two was the cheeriest District, and by far the most supportive of the Capitol's motives. And the victors? They- well, _sort of _smiled when the walked out. Emma grinned, carefully watching the crowd and waiting for the chatter to die down. "Excuse-" they continued to chatter, and Emma rose her voice. "Excuse me!" The crowd died down, and head gradually began to face up front. "Hello, people of District Two, and Happy Hunger Games!" the crowd cheered, and Emma couldn't help but grin at the congregation's enthusiasm. This was precisely the reason why she loved her job. District Two.

"Well, let's get to it, then!" Emma said, in her optimistic shrill. She walked over to the crystal bowl, reaching her green glove- that matched her wig, into the bowl, drawing out a single slither of paper. One single slither of paper that held life, and possible death, in it. One name. One announcement. Emma ran her eyes over the paper, the name written in decent handwriting. "For the ladies-" there was a pause. "Brittany Susan Pierce!"

Brittany looked up from the gravel. Her name had been called. She looked back at her mom, saying "Make sure that Tubs doesn't read my diary."

She walked out, into the isle separated by Peacekeepers. It wasn't a long time until she was up on the stage, playing with her hands. She waved, and resumed picking on a nail, as Emma beamed out into the crowd. "Okie dokie! Now, for the males!" She paraded to the other bowl, handling the paper with care, as she read aloud, "Jesse St. James!" chipperly.

Jesse looked over to the girl's side, and Julie St. James looked right at her brother, tears building up in her eyes. Why him? he was just about to finish his years of being a possible tribute. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right. Jesse seemed to smile, though, and walked up to the stage. It was better him being drawn than Julie. Anything was better than that possibility.

Jesse had always been a wonderful actor, and it helped, particularly in this situation. His confident smirk hid everything that he dare not connect with.

Brittany looked at Jesse, and he in return. They then looked at the crowd, and Effie smiled. "District Two, your male and female tributes for the 74th Hunger Games!"

The crowd cheered at the mayor sauntered up and read aloud the Treaty of Treason. When he finished, the crowd resumed talking, and the people who wished to say goodbye to the tributes did so.

Mrs. Pierce ran up to Brittany, hugging her. "Remember to put your shoe on the right foot, okay?" She said, smiling a bit.

"Mom, make sure Tubs doesn't read my diary. It's super important." She smiled in return, and Mrs. Pierce nodded.

"Will do."

Meanwhile, Julie St. James and Jesse's father walked up to Jesse. Julie said nothing, but instead embraced her big brother. her hero, into a long hug. She tried not to cry, she knew that Jesse would make it out, that he would be back. Even though there was a tiny voice telling her that not everything would be as it seemed, she ignored it, pushed it away, just like her big brother.

"I'll miss you, Jul," Jesse whispered into Julie's ear, "I love you.'

"I love you too, Jesse."

After a couple of minutes of hugging, the Peacekeepers walked up to them, tapping Jesse on the shoulder.

"I've got to go, okay? Take care of mom for me."

"I will," She replied, her fragile voice cracking, and her mother dragging her away.

A single, silent tear ran down Jesse's face as Brittany and he departed to the Captiol.

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><p><strong><em>WOW.<em>**

_** That was even hard for me to write. Okay, well that's chapter two! Cheery, right?**_

**_Heh..._**

_**R&R, please! Chapter 3 will be up next week!**_


	3. District Three

**_Sorry I'm a day late, guys! I'm just getting prepared for Thursday, getting my Madge outfit together. ANYWAY! Enough about my personal life, because it's boring. Enjoy chapter 3!_**

**_AVGPH xx_**

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><p><strong><em>Chapter 3: District 3; <em>_Arthur (Artie) Abrams_**

Nerves. Anticipation. Fear. All of these feelings could be summed up into one event; the reaping. The bane of Artie Abrams' existence, if you were to ask him. However, he wasn't exactly vocal with his' opinion, so one would have to approach him, which didn't exactly happen often. They were scared, terrified of his' outer layer, his wheelchair. His wheelchair had become his identity. They were all scared, was all. But maybe, maybe if they just took their precious time talking and not gawking, they would discover Arthur Abrams, the guy who just wants to be heard, but silenced by the facade of outward.

But, anyway. He had to get himself ready. He sat up in his bed, taking one hand and grabbing his leg and lifting the lifeless ligament, then the other. His numb legs dangled on the edge of the bed, and using all the upper body strength he had gained from the 13 years of being in a wheelchair he placed himself into the wheeled contraption. Vigorously working out by rolling yourself around in a hunk of metal had its benefits.

Why was he in the wheelchair? Why couldn't he just go to the Capitol, get new and better legs? His family was poor. Very poor. Hence, why he was entered in the reaping 23 times. Unfortunately, if it wasn't for all those entries, his family would have to move to a more indigent District.

He was his family's lifeline. And the odds were not in his favor now, but it didn't matter. He closed his eyes, swept away by his imagination. When he opened his eyes, he remembered. The reaping. He had to get ready.

Artie wheeled himself to his small closet, where there were a series of pulley systems he invented himself to help him get to the clothes. He picked out a white undershirt and a plaid sweater vest, along with some suspenders, khaki pants; socks and shoes which he hadn't felt pressed up against his feet in 13 years.

Depressing, right?

He sighed to himself, tying the shoes, and observing himself. Glasses, on. Clothes, yes, shoes, yes, socks, yes. Wheelchair, yes. He was as ready as ever.

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><p><strong><em>Santana Lopez<em>**

Heart racing, adrenaline pumping. Sweat glistening, faux support. Santana Lopez felt all of these feelings every reaping, over and over. However, she could hide it. You see, Santana grew up in the ghetto part of town. The part that even the Peacekeepers dare not enter without a gun. Her family was tough. Rough. Terrible, yet wonderful at the end of the day. But, they were barely just surviving.

Which is why Santana's name was entered 36 times. District 3 had a depressingly low economy already, and the average person her age was entered about 15 times. But since Santana had a large family, and most of them were jobless and over 18 years old, Santana had to take the toll. Of course.

This is where the training ground came in handy.

It wasn't exactly a training ground, though. Since her father worked with a lot of knives, her family set up a small "training ground" (which consisted of a piece of paper and scarecrow). From there, Santana became a knife thrower.

And she was good at it, too.

It started out as a hobby. Every other day, she began to train. And then, she began to love it. She would anxiously look at the clock at her school, waiting for the bell to ring, and then she would run though the alleyway to the back yard. To her scarecrow, her knives. Her home.

That's how the reaping became less and less nerve-racking for her. Slowly, she wanted to go. It grew on her. She _wanted_ to showcase her abilities.

She was already ready. Clothes on, everything.

She wanted to go, and yet, she didn't want to. But it didn't matter. What happened would happen.

She set off to the town square, smirking. Watch out, District 3. Here is Santana Lopez.

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><p><strong><em>The Tributes; The Reaping.<em>**

The smog of District 3 built up as Emma coughed, her yellow wig shifting to the side. She attempted her signature grin as the people filed in.

Santana stood near the back of all the children, as she scanned around for her family. They were all here. Good. She smiled at all of them, pulling her hair back into a slick ponytail, as her best friend arrived.

"Hi," she said to the girl, as Juanita, a girl of 17 years waved.

She didn't talk back, and there was a reason for that. She was dumb and deaf. No, not as in stupid dumb, she actually couldn't talk. It had been that way since they were children, and they had grown accustomed to it, Juanita learned a bit of sign language, how to read lips. Santana smiled again at her friend, linking her hand in hers.

Artie rolled in, and the entirety of District 3 gaped, or even so much as glanced at the boy. Artie just looked down at his wheels, or ahead, determined to get to his spot. As Emma walked up to the podium, the entire District halted to attention.

Emma smiled. "Um, hello! Happy Hunger Games! Let's hope the odds are in your favor!" she giggled, scoping the lifeless crowd, trying to be as optimistic as she could be. "The Hunger Games are a thrilling time of year!"

Thrilling is one way to put it Artie thought, rolling his eyes.

"Let's get right to it, then! As always, ladies will be drawn first." The walk to the bowl was monotonous and dull as Emma drew the name, clunking back to the podium and the microphones in her yellow stiletto heels.

"The female tribute is Santana Lopez!" She cheered, scoping the crowd.

A cocky smirk grew on Santana's face as she walked out of the crowd.  
>However, she looked back at Juanita, who gazed at her with an intense, hurt, worrying, and longing look. Santana knew that Juanita couldn't communicate with words, but she sure as hell could communicate through looks. She stood there, breathing heavily, reality striking. Santana continued to stay there until a Peacekeeper barked at her to "GO FORWARD! GO OR ELSE WE'LL MOVE YOU."<p>

She faced the front, walking back up toward the stage, the smirk not leaving her face, and Juanita's expression not evaporating from her thoughts.

The mentors glared at her, and the first thing that went through Santana's head is someone needs an attitude check, as she crossed her arms. Suddenly, the Games weren't games. Her smirk didn't give that away, though. She still thought those thoughts.

Emma looked at the crowd. Today was a wrong day for yellow. Not even her optimism (and neon yellow) could brighten up this situation in this district. She sighed to herself, a smile still plastered on her painted face. "And now, the boys!"

She, again, walked to the notorious boy's bowl, drawing out a name. The tension was felt as she read aloud "Arthur Abrams!"

Artie blinked, looking around. There had to be another Arthur. This had to be a mistake. When no one moved, Artie navigated his wheelchair through the crowd, and a boy's voice shouted out "IS THIS SOME KIND OF A JOKE?", but he ignored the male, wheeling up the ramp to the stage.

"Oh," Emma said, a bit choked up on the boy's behalf. "Ladies and Gentlemen, your District 3 tributes!"

_Tributes, _Artie thought, _like a lamb being put up for a sacrifice. Does it have a choice? No._

The crowd clapped as the mayor stepped up and said, "As you know, the Hunger Games were created 74 years ago, after the rebellion, so that everyone understands that as President Sylvester gibes, she can also take away." The crowd remained silent, as the Mayor read off the Treaty of Treason. When he finished, everyone quickly got home, except for those who wished to say goodbye.

Juanita strolled over to Santana, the face she had worn upon her face when Santana got drawn still there etched eternally. She tried to smile at Santana, bur her eyes said so much. Too much, what she couldn't say. In her eyes resided hurt, pain, anxiousness, distress, dejection. Santana tried to avoid Juanita's intense eyes, but even still Santana could feel her friend's eyes blazing through her. She finally dared to look in her eyes, mouthing "I love you."

Juanita looked at her, turned away, and ran in the other direction.

Artie's mother looked at him, concerned. "Arthur-"

"I told you to call me Artie."

"Artie. Just.. do your best. Okay?"

Artie nodded, sighing. "Maybe, they'll help me."

"Hopefully."

Emma walked up to Artie, smiling. "What an honor to have you here, Mister Abrams."

Artie nodded once again, unlocking the wheels of his wheelchair.

"I'll just go now."

Artie eventually caught up to Santana as they departed to begin their adventure.


	4. District Four

_**A/N: I AM SO SORRY THIS IS LATER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD GO! I had so much to do this week. ANYWAY, Hello! The past week I (like many of you,) watched the Hunger Games! Although, I watched it 6 times.. Going on 7.. OKAY! However, I do feel pathetic because I forgot to mention a couple key points, the fact Effie (here, Emma,) is only the spokesperson (is that the right word?) for District 12 Since I've already written this with Emma, if you'll bare with me and keep in mind that this is fan fiction that would be supercalifragiawesome. ALSO! Thank you SO FREAKING MUCH for your R&Rs, your alerts, telling people about this, everything. It really means a lot.  
><strong>__**Okay, I'm done. Enjoy Chapter 4!  
><strong>_

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><p><em><strong>Chapter Four: District Four; Finn Hudson <strong>_

Finn stood at the District 4 East Side school's training ground, hurling a sack with a weight of 150 pounds. The sack flew in the air until it landed on the crimson target. Perfect. The lanky boy smiled a bit, for he knew that he was getting better. No doubt about that. It was a good thing that he was getting better, too.

The reason? He was volunteering as tribute for The Hunger Games.

Really, he _always _wanted to attend the games, to carry out the legacy, or something like that, and the legacy would be about his father, who attended the games a long time ago. For a brief background, his mother was 20, and his father was 18. Carole gave birth to Finn when she was 19, and for a year, they lived together with Finn. It was perfect, until Christopher Hudson's name was called. Christopher Hudson fought, and was even in the top three, until a male from District 2 stabbed him multiple times, causing for him to bleed to death over night.

Even as a young boy, Finn understood why his father fought, and because of that he wanted to show everyone the Hudsons were a force to be reckoned with. That they _weren't_ losers, that they _could_ be winners. In a fit of rage, he picked up another sack, throwing it far beyond the target. He looked at the flying bag and turned away. If he was going to volunteer, he at least need to look decent.

There, however, was one problem about volunteering, especially _his' _volunteering. The motivation for the problem lay in the fact that Carole Hudson, his mother, had no idea that Finn was volunteering himself at the reaping. "This... should be fun," he murmured to himself, walking down the sandy shore to his home. He kicked the sand as he tread, inhaling the salty air and observing the reflection of the blazing sun on the water. Once he completed the journey home. As he approached the house, he greeted his mother with a nod and walked straight to his grey room. He put on a suit and tie, fixed his hair, taking in a large amount of air, holding his breath, trapping the air inside his lungs, and releasing it in a relieving wind.

This was it.

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><p><strong><em>Harmony Necare<em>**

"I'm home," Harmony bellowed as she walked into the Necare household. Grinning, she looked up at her mother who greeted her with a warm smile.

"D'ya know what today is?" questioned Harmony enthusiastically.

The mother nodded at Harmony, answering "Yes, in fact I do," and pausing, she stammered, "Are-uh, are you sure you're ready? I mean, you have 3 more years to volunteer."

Harmony closed her icy blue eyes, smiling coyly and chortled, leaning her head back. When everything got silent, Harmony opened her eyes. "Wait. You weren't kidding? Mother, I already have more experience than everyone else. I mean, none of the other Districts volunteered. So that means I must be more experienced, right?" She paused, clicking her tongue, "And even if I'm not, mom, you know as well as I do that I work amazing under pressure."

Harmony's mother opened her mouth in protest, but before any words could get out, Harmony pivoted on one foot and walked to her room. Once she arrived inside the blue room, she walked over to a small cardboard box, covered in a small ripping of a old fish net. She removed the net, carefully opening the box. Inside the box lay a pad of personalized stationary. She smirked, taking out the pad, and skimming through the pad with words etched on with pencil, her notes on all the other Districts from years past, and the ones she has heard about thus far for this year's games. Placing it in her purse, she walked to her closet and picked out a dress to match her eyes. She loved the color blue, anyway.

She beckoned when she heard a faded whistle in the distance. A horn-like whistle, the one that could only belong to the alarm for the reaping. It was time to show everyone what she had. But first, she needed to put on her dress.

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><p><strong><em>The Journey to the Square<em>**

Harmony felt like skipping- or running, really. Whichever would get her to the square faster. She was so overwhelmed with excitement, she ran across the sandy shore, not thinking to take in anything whatsoever. Her mind raced exuberantly, not looking back. She would be back, anyway, wearing a victor's crown! Besides, why should she care about the District, if the games were about _her _winning?

It was a callous thought, not that she cared. The Games were (more or less) solely about her victory. To savor the bittersweet victory, to drink from a deadly poison, an alcohol that the addiction could never be cured. To feel the sensation of being the best, a constant lust that could not be controlled. The thought of this made her smile coyly again, speeding up to the square that was now in the distance. Just a short while, and she would be off to the Capitol. She was exhilarated.

Meanwhile, Finn took his time toward the square, looking around and doubting himself as to whether this was the correct choice. He needed to focus on why he was doing this. Christopher Hudson. He kicked the sand, sighing. As he got closer and closer to the square, he closed his eyes, picturing his father, who he had only seen in pictures and the Games which he was forced to watch even as a young child by the capitol. He quickly opened his eyes, taking a short breath, trying to take the image of his father dying out of his' head. Finally, he was at the check in, and he sauntered to the lady taking blood. He held out his long arm as the lady pricked his finger, saying "Okay, you can go now." Finn nodded, filing in with the boys as Harmony held out her hand, placing her blood on the paper. Once the lady dismissed her, she walked to the girl's side. Both the young adults looked up at Emma, who stepped up to the podium.

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><p><strong><em>The Reaping<em>**

Emma tapped on the microphone with her gloved hand, grinning widely. "Is it o- Oh! Oh hello! Happy Hunger Games! And, may the odds be ever in your favor." She scanned the crowd, perching her lips and crinkling her nose, she noted the District 4 smelled of dead fish. She tired to put the thought to the back of her head as she eerily smiled again. "Anywho, let's get down to business! As always, ladies first!" She began to clunk toward the boy, when out of the silence broke out a single, yet confident "I volunteer!"

Emma's smile got even wider as she clasped her hand together, walking back to the microphone. "Oh, goody! Look at that! It seems that District 4 has a volunteer! Come on up!"

Harmony strode up the path to the stage, waving.

"What a charismatic girl," Emma exclaimed. "What would your name be?"

"Harmony Necare," the girl replied exuberantly.

"Well, it's a pleasure, Harmony Necare. I look forward to you representing District 4!" Emma exclaimed, nodding. "But the fun's not over yet! We still have to pick our male tribute!"

Finn's words caught in his throat, and he cleared his throat, as heads turned toward him. "I, uh, I volunteer. Yeah, I volunteer," Finn said, looking at the stage, nowhere else. In the distance, there was a outraged "NO!" by Carole.

She looked at her son. Her only son, her only hope. She felt betrayed, dejected, bewildered, enraged. "NO! That is my SON."

"Well, come on up!" Emma said, clearly ignoring Carole and motioning up to the stage. Finn numbly walked with the Peacekeepers who escorted him to the stage.

"And your name is?"

"Finn Hudson. That's my name."

"Hudson? As in Christopher Hudson?"

Finn nodded.

"Well, carry on the legacy!" Emma said, nodding. "Now, a word from your mayor."

The mayor stepped up, clearing his throat. "From the Treaty of Treason:" He said, getting out a piece of paper, and reading; "In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up one male and one female between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public 'Reaping'. These tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol, and then transfered to a public arena where they will fight to the death, until a lone victor and furthermore, this pageant will be known as The Hunger Games." He nodded, and the two young adults were escorted inside the doors, waiting for family to come visit.

Finn was first. He was scared, as his mother barged in. "What are you thinking?" She questioned, anger facading her true, hurt feeling. She couldn't lose another boy, her only one, the one that helped her get by day to day.

"I just want to show everyone that we're not dumb, and we're strong. Do you know how much shit I get for my father's death? A lot, mom."

Carole took in a sharp breath. "Listen, I want you to win. I want you to show everyone what you can do. Don't get too cocky, but I know you can do this. Just.. please. stay alive."

The Peacekeepers barged in and Carole clung to Finn, kissing him on the cheek. "Never scare me like that aga-"

The door slammed shut.

Harmony looked at the door as it creaked open. "Mom?"

Her mother and father walked in. "Mom and Dad." She smiled, opening up her arms.

"Do us proud," the mother managed to get out, nodding. "You can win this, Harmony."

"I know," she looked at her father. "Dad?"

The father looked at her only daughter, crushed. "Yeah, uh, do us proud pumpkin. You can- uh. Yeah. What your mother said."

Harmony stood there, arms still spread wide. "Can't I get a hug?"

"Sure," the father said coldly. "once you win."

"Richard!" the mother said, looking at the father intensly.

"That's all I need say," He said as the Peacekeepers escorted the parents out.

"Bye," she murmured, looking around. What the hell was the matter with her father? It didn't matter. She needed to look through her notes.

Shortly after she skimmed them again, they were off to the Capitol.


	5. District Five

_**A/N I have returned from yet another semi-hiatus. I'm so sorry, I needed to study for (and take) EOCs (End of Course Exams)! It was very very stressful. Luckily, I hath returned! Thank you all for your support, reviews, and telling people about this. It really does make me happy. Okay, I bet none of you read this anyway, so he****re's District**** 5! HOLLA!**_

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><p><em>The Tributes<em>

From the moment that they met, Mike Chang and Quinn Fabray were an inseparable pair of friends. The indissoluble pair met at District 5's training camp, of which parents signed the children up if they wished to have them participate in the games. Today: the reaping day 6 years post their meeting was, in fact, a set date, not just from the Captitol. You see, 6 years ago the two made a pact, a vow that would not be shattered.

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><p><em>A Look Into the Past<em>

Mike gazed at the tall, blonde girl; Quinn, who was finishing her last practice shot with the bow-and-arrow. The artillery was not the best weapon of choice for the blonde, and still the arrow soared through the air to the target's bulls eye. Quinn spun around on the heel of her flat shoe and directed her hazel eyes toward the boy looking at her. She rose an eyebrow as he opened his mouth to speak. "Yes?"

Mike smiled a bit, and looked at the ground out of a nervous habit, "I- uh, you're really awesome. At that," he said, motioning to the target with the bulls eye.

Quinn's face softened and she smiled a bit. "Thanks.." Quinn looked thoughtful and remembered the boy's name, "Mike. You do agility, right? You're good at that. Really fast. Good at dodging, and stuff."

Mike looked up. "Really? Thanks!"

A moment of silence dwelled as Mike looked all around the room nervously.

"What's the matter?" Quinn inquired, raising an eyebrow at the boy with a questioning glare and crossing her arms, leaning all her weight to one hip.

"Uh, nothing. It's just... I dunno. You're really cool, and I've wanted to talk to you for some time now, and you're here and I though to myse-"

"Okay, Mike." Quinn stopped him, holding her hand up. "I better be good, because my dad wants me to volunteer for The Games when I'm 16.." the girl trailed off.

"No way," Mike said, his eyes widening, frowning. "I'm so sorry, I sort of want to volunteer, but my dad won't even tell me his opinion. I'm lucky if he even looks at me, to be honest," the boy admitted. All the while, Mike couldn't help but think _Quinn's dad wanted her to volunteer. Why? I mean, she's good, but why would he just tell her to do that? Quinn needs her own opinion, really. She doesn't have to do this. I need to be there for her, _and before he could review the words in his head, Mike found himself blurting out, "Well, since I want to show my dad that I can win, and you're going. maybe we could volunteer together? We could be allies and stuff."

Quinn's entire demeanor softened. "What? R-Really? You'd do that?"

Mike smiled, nodding. "Yeah, I mean it's a chance to show dad I'm capable of something," Mike stated, nodding.

A stiff silence resided between the two, and Quinn stuck out her hand.

"So.. Partners?"

"Partners."

They shook hands, and instantly began 6 years of training.

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><p>After that day, Mike Chang and Quinn Fabray trained together, as a duo, the fact that they would both eventually have to kill each other far from their brains. From the partnership sprung a strong friendship, one that only possible death could destroy. All the preparation that they both had planned, spent countless hours dwelling on for weeks upon months upon years led up to this, the reaping.<p>

No matter how much the self-persuasion, the two could not fully convince themselves that this was the judgement day, the beginning of what they had journeyed so long to get to. The trek toward this, the reaping. Time.. It flew by. So, so very fast- and now..

Quinn looked in the mirror next to the front door. Hair, good, she looked presentable. She needed to be, she was volunteering in front of the entirety of Panem. She slowly opened up the front door as Mike, now 16, peered inside. "Ready?" He asked, nervously.

"I'm ready." Quinn said, convincing herself that she was. Her dad, Mike, her sister Frances... they all said she was good.

She would just have to work off of that.

Mike looked at Quinn, holding out his hand. He did their secret handshake, and he nodded. "Let's go."

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><p>As they walked to the square, Quinn could feel her father's judging glare through the back of her head. Even though she was volunteering, she still felt it wasn't enough, not enough for her father; that nothing would ever be. She shook her head, sighing and walking up to the blood sample tables as she and Mike parted until they were up on the stage again.<p>

Mike held out his hand, clenching his teeth to prevent the pain of the needle. Once after, he walked to his group, as he looked at Quinn. She looked back, then ahead to the girl dressed in a silver-metallic outfit. As always, Emma tapped the microphone, and it didn't work. She tapped it again, her metallic silver gloves not making a sound. She looked behind her, motioning to the microphone, and it finally turned on.

"Oh! Hello! It's on! wonderful!" She clasped her hands together and held them in the air. "Let's get right to the fun, then!" She smiled, walking towards the crystal bowl.

Quinn looked up at the front, swallowing. It took the brunette girl behind her poking her in the back for Quinn to perk up and clear her throat and finally say "I volunteer!"

Emma looked at Quinn, smiling widely. "Really? Oh, how wonderful! Isn't that special? Come on up here, young lady," Emma exclaimed, motioning up to the front.

Quinn walked up, putting on her bravest and cockiest face possible, as Emma held her hand to help her up. "And what might your name be?" she asked, perkily.

Quinn smirked, and said "Quinn Fabray, crossing her arms and looking off into the crowd. Before Emma could go on to announce the boys being called up, there as a lone voice who shouted, "I volunteer as male tribute!"

Everyone looked at Mike, who was escorted up to the stage as Emma huffed. She liked announcing the male tribute.. no matter. She smiled, looking at the boy next to her. "And you are...?"

"Mike. Mike Chang." He said, nodding.

"Well, there you have it! District 5, your tributes!" Emma clapped, eagerly smiling as she looked at the both.

"Let's take you to the back, shall we?"

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><p>Quinn looked at the door, waiting for Frances, her mother, father.. anyone to come in, to re-assure her, to wish her luck. She waited, pacing around the room until the door opened, revealing her father.<p>

"Dad?" Quinn said, smiling.

"Good job," Mr. Fabray said, dully nodding. "I knew you'd have it in you. Look, we only have a couple of minutes, so I'm gonna make this short and sweet. Win."

Quinn nodded, "I'll try."

"No, you won't _try,"_ Mr. Fabray said, firmly, "you will _do._ We are Fabrays, and we are doers. You understand that? Win."

Quinn nodded, as a silence fell, and Mr. Fabray walked out. A peacekeeper informed him that "you have 1 more minute," and Mr. Fabray nodded.

"I know." With that, he walked even further away.

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><p>Mike looked at the door. He was 100% certain that his Dad wouldn't even bother to come. He didn't.<p>

However, his mother did; and she was blubbering mess.

"Mike. Mike, why didn't you tell me? We could have.. I mean, not that I think you wouldn't win, I just.. I don't want to risk.."

"Shh," Mike said, calmly smiling. "Mom, it'll be okay. I have a plan. I'll be back, I promise."

Mrs. Chang looked up at Mike, her eyes full of tears of sorrow. "You better be."

Mike chuckled, wiping the tears from his mother's eyes. "I'll be okay."

The peacekeepers walked in, taking Mrs. Chang from Mike. "I love you! Your father does too."

"Yeah, right." Mike said, shaking his head.

Yeah right.

Mike waited until Emma walked in with Quinn, and the two embraced. It was there. It was real. It was finally happening. And to think- this was only just the _real_ beginning.

"Ready?" Mike asked, as the two pulled away.

"Ready."

"READY!" Emma said eagerly jumping and clapping, motioning outside. "It's ready to go!"

Mike and Quinn exchanged glances before heading with Emma to the train.


End file.
